“I’m not going to lie to you. It’s a little dangerous to live a life in which you do what you want to do, behave in a way that feels authentic, pay attention to things you find of interest, and direct your passions in any way you see fit. You are now a woman who can’t be controlled by mass media and consumer culture. Congratulations, sister.”- Karbo
A dangerous woman, indeed.
It has taken my entire life and the help of this book to become the woman I am today, but I guess that’s the point. There’s no substitute for experience.
I’ve learned to let go of the woulda, coulda shouldas and instead, focus on the here and now.
Instead of regret, I channel my energy into encouraging my daughters to embrace their unique selves, while still pursuing my own.
I wake.
Karbo, Karen. Yea, No. Not Happening. How I found Happiness Swearing Off Self Improvement and Saying F*ck it All- and How You Can Too. 2020.
“God-or whoever is in charge of this planet- got drunk on the job one day and decided to give me the gift of writing. The way I see it, I have two choices. I can set that gift high on a shelf so it won’t get dinged up and nobody can make fun of me for playing with it.” He smiled until the crinkles at the corner of his eyes were deep enough to hide state secrets. “Or, I can have fun with it and play with the gift I was given until the engine burns out and the wheels come off. I decided to play. I suggest you do the same, young man. Go paint or draw or collage or whatever you want to do. Come back when there’s smoke coming off the canvas. And for God’s sake, go have some fun. Please?” – Shaffer, 2023 P. 78
I am so. Damn. Proud. Of myself.
I have written, since I could.
Diaries with useless locks and keys.
Journals considered my closest confidant.
“Dear Journal, You are the only one I can talk to.”
Everyone wanted to be Carrie but I knew, I already was Carrie.
It took one high school teacher mentioning, “You are a gifted writer.”
And over a decade later, a neighbor suggesting, “You should start a blog.”
For me to start a blog.
How will I ever properly thank them for the journey they have encouraged me to record?
I keep writing, that’s how.
I play with the gift I was given until there’s smoke coming off my paper.
A mother and her “tween” daughter at odds who ultimately work together to help Barbie and her land find their purpose.
America Ferrera’s speech to “wake up” the barbies: “I’m just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman, tie herself into knots so that people will like us.”
I walked in and explained that I’d held on to this gift certificate since Christmas. That I was in the midst of a family trauma and that I was here to relax and let some of that go.
What I didn’t expect was to burst into tears 45 minutes through, as my massage therapist pulled the energy from my muscles and flicked it away. As she summoned my breath and thanked me for feeling safe enough to let it go in that room, with her, a stranger.
But there we were. 2 strangers united at 9 AM. She, not knowing the trauma and still, meeting me there. Helping me to release.
We hugged, afterwards. After all, after weeping, what else is one to do?
And then we carried on. Her next client. My day with my daughters.
New Leaf Parenting 